


It begins with a single step

by Ourbashes



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Also Aang/Zuko is more like a platonic thing, F/M, Gen, Long story short everyone is dumb and completely oblivious, M/M, Mention of Kuzon, Rating may change to general audience
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-14 11:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15387417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ourbashes/pseuds/Ourbashes
Summary: 500 words pairing prompts. Aang and Zuko (1), Toph and Sokka (2).





	1. Zuko and Aang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko/Aang, ATLA Book 3 and TOK compliant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has been rewritten.

It wasn’t love.

Love was wrong. Love was merciless, it put him on his knees and build him up anew, it tore his heart and left it breathless, teared his eyes and burned him to ashes. Love was _passion_ , the way fire was, and Zuko learnt too well it was how his father chose to show his love, with a voracious fire consuming his flesh, with scars and hard-learned lessons. But for Aang, it couldn’t be love, as for Aang never offered him any scar and never would. Love was wrong, it was wrong, and Aang was everything but wrong, he was the fairest, the most honest man he ever met.

So, it wasn’t, couldn’t be love. It was something else.

* * *

It wasn’t friendship.

Katara was his friend, Sokka was just as much, damned he be.

Toph was a kind and blind soul who couldn’t see his scars. Even if she did, could, she never spoke of it. She kept them untold, he kept hers a secret, and it was enough to call her his friend. But Aang, Aang wasn’t his friend. He had been, wasn’t anymore, the same way he was his target before and was no more. He wasn’t his friend but something else, one he couldn’t and wouldn’t put a name on. Aang could read in him like nobody did, better than his mother, better than anyone, and every time he saw him, Zuko thought, _swore_ , he wouldn’t get attached to him. Swore he could handle it, swore that, after defeating his father, they could part their way and never think of each other again.

Truth was, he was bound already. He had always been, in this life or another, met Aang and refused to lose him, oathed to grow old by his sides, to walk with him as an equal.  

So, when Aang asked him to teach him his craft, his damned craft, with compassion in his soul and forgiveness in his voice, Zuko couldn’t refuse, taught him, instead, how fire flows around them as a comforting warmth, how to see the lively soul of fire in each flame they summoned.

And for once, fire wasn’t love, wasn’t despair nor destruction. It would be what saved them all, after a hundred years, and Zuko thought, maybe, maybe he could let Aang save him this time.

* * *

It was devotion.

Zuko learnt it later. When they were older and wiser, when the world was at peace and they weren’t children anymore. When Aang was known as the world's savior, and he as the heir of the abhorred fire nation.

* * *

It was familiarity.

Aang knew it since the moment their soul touched, it struck him like a lightning blot every single time, when Zuko was left to die by the Northern tribes, in Ba Sing Se, every time they fought, Aang _knew_ him, could have sworn he met him decades ago, before this war, before the world was nothing but wasted lands. In the Fire Temple, Aang knew, _realized_ , just as Zuko did, in Pohuai Stronghold, when he freed him dressed as the Blue Spirit, they both knew who they were.

Roku told him, hinted him, many times, when he spoke of his beloved Sozin, about _lifetimes_ and friendship who weren’t only fondness. And then everything made sense, why Kuzon was long gone, why Zuko was here, alive, and Kuzon wasn’t, why Zuko reminded him of his past, why everything they said and done, they already underwent it a thousand times in different lives, why Roku led him to Ran and Shaw, why Zuko _accompanied_ him or why the dragon trusted them.

It all made sense.

It was foolish, certainly, to think his soul could be tied to the fire prince; to the _firelord_ ; to imagine Zuko would bring him comfort the way Katara never could, to imagine they lost and found their way back here, at each other’s side, where they belonged, even after a hundred years.

It was foolish.

But Aang gladly accepted it.


	2. Sokka and Toph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka/Toph, post ATLA and LOK compliant.

It happened, once.

She was twelve and the world was at war. She was young, so young, but the fierceness in her eyes could subjugate the bravest of men. She was a Beifong, she was Toph Beifong, and no matter who they were, how powerful they were, people bowed to her. They always did and always would.

* * *

He didn’t.

This man, this son of the Water Tribe, who could not even bend the elements to his will, refused to behave as she asked and ordered; and there was something, something in him that attracted her with a blazing curiosity. She knew of him and his prideful tribe, who bowed to no one and took back their lands when the earth and sky were covered in black snow.

And what an interesting man, indeed, a man who could pick up any weapon and make them his, who had saved her life more times than she could ever count, who saw beyond her blind eyes and praised her with warm words and tender truths. She was never admired for her bending, for the way earth would tear apart under her rage or the way even metal would yield to her. But he did, and he was right to do so.

She was talented, so talented.

* * *

It happened, twice.

She was older, but the world was still in need of his soldiers. She let him crawl under her skin to her bones, she saw how her whole body would long for him and only him, and sometimes she wondered if it was what adults called love.

But towns had to be rebuilt and hearts healed, and no matter what it was, she had nothing to gain from putting a name to it. So, she silenced her mind and the craving in her soul, and everything was back in place again.

* * *

She was silent for a long time.

She was silent when he kissed the Kyoshi Warrior, she was silent when another man approached her, she was silent when she gave birth to her first daughter. She was silent when his beloved died, when he and the Warriors mourned, when Sokka begged her to stay, to be by his side until the break of dawn.

She was silent, and intended to stay so, because she was powerful, she was in charge and respected, and nothing ever felt so right.

She was silent, and it was easier than lying, she could force herself forget about the affection she had for him, no matter how unbearable it was. She had done it in the past as a soldier, and she would do it again as a woman.

* * *

One night, she couldn’t.

He was grieving and she was here, she loved him, she _loved_ him because it was the right word, and he loved her for this night and few others.

She loved him when her second daughter was born. She loved him, but his love wasn’t hers. So, when Katara asked about her daughter’s sunburnt skin, when _he_ asked, she lied, said her father was a son of the desert, and to be blind was once again a blessing, for she couldn’t bear to see his eyes.

* * *

It happened.

It simply, purely, happened, and some scars were better left untouched.


End file.
